Traveling in another state. Decided to visit a local mall to window shop. Not familiar with the area. Ended up buying something in a T-shirt shop. Not a fancy store, just a low end retail shop. I heard a a shriek. Some gasps. My neck whipped around to see what all the fuss was about. The picture above shows the scene.
A gentleman dropped a boat load of cash when he went to pay for an item that was less than $10. His fanny pack was jam packed with hundred dollar bills. They were on the floor. Some might have still been spilling out as he picked up others. Time seemed to be at a standstill. Nobody helped him pick them up. Everyone just stared, myself included. Such an odd 5 minutes.
The young girls nearby were notably freaked out. One said I’d help you but I don’t want you to think I’m trying to steal any money. I, on the other hand, was curious in those moments. Was he a drug dealer? A lottery winner? A bank robber? A pimp? Was that his life savings? The list went on and on in my head. I also clearly took a picture. Not to embarrass him but to document the crazy.
In this day and age you can never be too careful. You must be aware of your surroundings. Could he have had a gun as well? I’ve seen shootings at the mall on the news before. Was he going to be upset nobody helped him? I just had many questions that would never be answered. I moved on before he finished collecting his money off the floor just to avoid any awkwardness.
Would you have lended a helping hand? If it was an old lady would your perception be different? How would you caption the photo?
Just an odd post to pass on. A day trip to the mall. One for the memory book.
Zooming down the highway, on time for being early, lights still gleaming out of the downtown buildings.
“This is the best time of the day to drive to the airport,” I think to myself. No traffic stopping things up. Smooth sailing. I’m gliding from a middle lane to the left, getting ready to take one of the final exits to the airport, when THUCK. I hit something in the middle of the lane. I just hold my breath and pray it’s nothing. Then I hear the “tik-tik-tik-tik-tik-tik” and know it’s bad news. The instrument panel lights up like a Christmas display. Flat tire. Thankfully, I was able to get over to the right shoulder. Hazards on. Now what….
It’s 5:50 am. I’m an hour from home on the side of a busy interstate. Who is up? Who will help? Made a call to 511, our metro HERO unit line. Spoke to a really nice dispatcher. Quick, seamless, shared my location, someone will be there to help me in 10 minutes or so. You may be thinking I should change my own tire. Even though I said there was no traffic, it’s more accurate to say that traffic wasn’t stopped. No, this is a major artery through downtown Atlanta, just before the exit toward the busiest airport in the world. Dozens of cars raced past me at 60-70-80 miles per hour every minute. I had about 8-10 feet of space between me and those fast cars. Needless to say, I stayed in my seat.
20 minutes passed. The sound of fast whooshing wind as SUVs, 18 wheelers, boat trailers, and motorcycles flew by went from annoying to unnerving pretty quickly. I found myself just praying that people were paying attention to the road. That they were sober. At some point I realized I had taken off my seatbelt. I quickly put it back on in case of impact. I called the HERO dispatcher back. Yes, help was still on the way but they have to help any incident that stopped traffic first. I would just have to wait.
By now the whooshing came too fast and too furious to stay calm about it. But really, what are my choices? I’m on the side of a 6-lane highway, with a median separating it from another 3-lane exit. I literally have no choice but to wait. Being in a car at least gives me a little protection.
I flash back to another time this happened, years ago. In the middle of the night. With my daughters. Waiting in the dark for help in an area we didn’t want to be in. Every light that comes toward you is a threat. How fast are they going? Are they sleepy? Do they see me? The car wobbles ever so slightly with each vehicle that zooms by. It’s been years since that time, but my body remembers.
Back to the present…by this point I am looking at my grim flight options to try to distract from the terror of that unrelenting sound. Sold out – Sold out – Sold out – my only options are to pay either $400 or $1,200 dollars to fly out late tonight, which would put me at my destination after one of the main events I am going for. So, as I waited, I canceled. The hotel. The car. The flight. The first family reunion I have missed since 1991. A story for another day.
Finally, the flashing lights roll up behind me. A few minutes pass before a portly man gets out, helmet on and gear attached. He’s done this job for 9 years. I pass him my wheel lock and watch him work…it only takes a few minutes before my spare is on the car and I am on my way. Jason, the driver in his bright green truck, really was my HERO on this day.
On my way to the tire store, I focused on feelings of gratitude. I am safe. I am ok. Nothing is unfixable. It could have been much worse. Someone showed up to help me. Do I wish I was on a plane for a weekend of fun and beach pizza and crumb cake and cousins and memories? Sure. Maybe the universe was protecting me from something. I will never know. All I do know is life happens sometimes and the best you can do is just try to stay positive and keep moving as best you can. And be thankful for the heroes who show up for you.
Today’s workout was called The Push. One hour of sled pushes. I had to go to the gym for this one since I don’t have a sled at home. It had to be a day when I woke up awfully early. Also had to be a day when they weren’t using sleds in the class workout. All the conditions were met one early June morning. I loaded the sled up, didn’t really warm up, and just started the slow methodical pushing up and down the turf. Back. Forth. Back. Forth.
It didn’t take long until the ideas started to flow. I took a short break to grab a whiteboard and a pen to start capturing my thoughts.
The idea to think on during this workout is “in the face of…”. What can you push through?
In the face of….
In the face of….
All the adversity hit me every time I braced to push that sled. I didn’t even know how much it weighed altogether. I first started answering the “in the face of”s with I can statements, but that soon changed to “I am…” statements. About every fourth push I would stop to jot then get back to it.
In the face work of I am capable
In the face of challenge I am strong
In the face of boredom I am proactive
In the face of adversity I am grateful
In the face of scrutiny I am undaunted
In the face of doubt I am confident
In the face of fatigue I am resilient
In the face of distraction I am focused
In the face of overwhelm I am undeterred
In the face of heavy I am strong
In the face of confusion I am clear
In the face of exhaustion I am centered
In the face of impatience I am calm
In the face of change I am nimble
In the face of insurmount I am worthy
In the face of conformity I am unique
In the face of complacency I am willing
I am powerful. In control. Independent. Thankful.
I am a reservoir of all that I need.
So many times during long workouts I am trying to distract myself, tune out from the dcscomfort and pain. It was a challenge to tune in and use the monotony to try to make sense of things.
I can choose to focus on the positive and powerful. I can tune in to discomfort and use it as a tool. And in the face of obstacles, I can get things done. A beautiful reminder.
Imagine a tough set of circumstances land you in an unimaginable spot. You’re surrounded by challenges. Even lies. A smear campaign. What do you do? Who can you lean on?
Character. At the school where I work, we tell our students that character is what you do when no one is looking. When there is no one around, are you still who you say you are when others are listening? Do you do the right thing when no one will know or keep score?
I was recently reminded that character is also what you do every day when you are just living. It is how you show up in work and in life. Are you dependable? Are you honest? Respectful? Responsible?
Every day we are each establishing a track record. A pattern. From the moment we wake up until we lay our heads down at night. Every action matters. The old saying goes, the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior. Sure, it’s not infallible and we all go through changes. But every day we are creating our path. Reinforcing who we are with what we do, what we say, and how we choose to spend our energies.
Think about the people closest to you. That may mean the people in your family. Or the people who spend the most time with, whether by choice or by force. How would you all describe one another? If someone had to give your eulogy, what would they say? If they had to complete a job recommendation, would they speak of you favorably? Are you living up to the ideals you set for yourself? If there was a line of people who spend a lot of time with you, how would they describe you? In a pinch, who would vouch for you?
Take a step back. Look at yourself. Your actions. Your choices. Even the little ones. Character is the accumulation of the everyday that becomes the picture of who we are. How will you be known and remembered?
Three decades of silence and shame, broken with one line.
“After 33 years, today I was revealed as Victim 54.”
No photo. No link. No commentary. No follow up.
But I knew.
I drew my breath in sharply. Old wounds burned under my skin. Did he know that I already knew? It didn’t matter either way. What mattered is that now it has finally come to light. Two-thirds more of his life has passed since those betrayals were committed. Same for Victim 55, my dear friend from the same years.
Finally, those in power who hunt and hurt and those who covered for them are named. Those hiding behind the priest’s collar are collared.
Child abuse doesn’t just hurt the victim. It hurts their friends, their family, their loved ones. They are robbed of the closeness they could have shared while the victim hides in plain sight.
Abuse also hurts the victim’s future. Choices, freedoms, preferences, relationships…it all changes.
Maybe I shouldn’t be thankful I was a girl, but I am. When I look back at having lunches with the predator, the gifts he gave me, the attention he showered on me…but a priest with a girl was probably too strange. Instead, he victimized boys, young men, my friends.
These old horrible men, hiding behind their uniforms. Carrying the banner of Jesus.
Power corrupts. Power clothed in a “sacred” uniform is even worse…more insidious. It gets a pass because it wears the costume of innocence. Virtue creates victims.
No wonder I am mistrustful of power. No wonder I automatically resist anyone who tries to govern me, legal or not. No wonder every time someone shows up in a wholesome uniform, I am guarded, cynical, preemptively skeptical.
The damage done by people who parade their trustworthiness, their valor, is infinitely as egregious. It makes me sick.
Sometimes I am too trusting. But when it comes to uniforms and power, I am the opposite: suspicious. I assume the worst. I always wonder if they are humbly trying to live up to their uniform or is there wickedness hiding beneath?
2 Chicks and a blog 